Glen Cook Dread Empire 03 Shadow Of All Night Falling

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table.
An absolute silence descended upon the room.
The easterners watched him hungrily, their eyes burning with the passion of
wolves' when catching sudden sight of unexpected, especially delicious prey.
Both quickly babbled pleas for aid.
The elderly visitor squinted, chuckled, glanced at the four corpses, nodded to
himself, returned to his bundle.
"The Star Rider," Varthlokkur murmured. He was awed and surprised. "Of all
people, why did he turn up here?"
His question had occurred to everyone else. The easterners, having recognized
the interloper, had fallen into a tense silence.
The Old Man muttered, "There is, after all, someone older and more cunning
than I am." There was something in his tone that made Varthlokkur glance his
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way suspiciously.
The elderly gentleman spoke to his Horn. A flash blinded everyone watching.
When sight returned, two tall, steely suits of baroque armor flanked the Star
Rider. "His living statues," Varthlokkur said softly. There was a place of
mystery east of the Mountains of M'Hand, near the Seydar Sea, called The Place
of A Thousand Iron Statues. It was believed to have been created by the Star
Rider as a place of refuge, a place where his secrets would remain inviolate.
No sorcerer yet had been able to fathom the magic animating the living statues
guarding The Place's secret heart.
"The bodies," said the Star Rider. "Lay them out here." He indicated the floor
immediately before him. Working swiftly, the dark things moved the corpses.
Then they moved back against a wall, becoming as motionless as dead metal.
"What's he doing?" Nepanthe asked. The Old Man and Mocker moved closer to her
and Varthlokkur. They eyed one another warily.
"I think he's going to try to recall us," the Old Man replied. Hope had
exploded into his voice. He eyed them uncertainly. "But why?"
Yo Hsi and Nu Li Hsi reached the same conclusion. "Forget the dead!" they
demanded. "Take care of the living."
"Free us," Nu Lu Hsi concluded. The Star Rider mumured to his Horn, setting
spells on each of the corpses before paying the slightest heed to the
brothers. Finally, squinting, he faced them. "You know who I am? What I am?
What you are to me? And you still want my help?" To his Horn, "They're greed
and wickedness."
Greed and wickedness. Modern legend said that for twice the age of the Old Man
this strange being had walked the earth, appearing randomly. No one knew the
why of his name, nor his purpose, but it was certain that each of his
appearances omened a startling shift in the course of history. Another of his
names was Old Meddler. Who was he? Where had he sprung from? And why did he
tamper?
The theory currently favored by the scholars of Hellin Daimiel was that he was
a tool of Right, or Justice. The known historical indicators pointed that way.
He chose that role now, teasing the two dread easterners, whose crimes had
been old when llkazar was young, into asking for justice. He taunted,
questioned, played their fears, maneuvered them into making the plea.
"Justice?" he cackled gleefully. "Then justice I'll give you!"
His hand twitched. The suits of armor stepped forward. He tapped one, pointed.
It strode into the trap, seized a startled Yo Hsi. In a workmanlike manner,
despite the hideous defenses and sorceries at the Demon Prince's command, the
living statue slowly strangled its victim. An unstirring Yo Hsi appeared on
the level of reality in which Mocker, Nepanthe, Varthlokkur, and the Old Man
already existed. He soon recovered from his death-shock and tried his prison
again. Again he had no success.
Meanwhile, the metal thing turned on Nu Li Hsi. The Dragon Prince fled round
the trap like a rat caught in a box with a terrier.
No escape did he find. Nor did his command of the Power avail him. The metal
monster shrugged off his attacks, caught him, strangled him, contemptuously
tossed him aside.
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Nepanthe watched unhappily, but wasn't greatly distressed. All emotion paled
in this shadowland palatinate to final death.
Flash.
The iron men were no more.
"It left the cage!" said Varthlokkur. "Nothing can do that."
"No? Something can," the Old Man countered. "Things without life. Things
immune to sorcery." He eyed the Star Rider, wearing an expression suggesting
that he and the interloper shared secrets.
The Star Rider looked back. "I'll have to hurry. There's not much time." He
turned to his Horn, murmured.
Mysterious devices appeared. These he quickly attached to the corpses over the
vital organs. In a rush, then, he summoned an object resembling a massive,
ornate coffin.
"I see what he's up to," the Old Man said excitedly. "Nobody's done it in
ages. Full resurrection. A lost art. Only he and I, today, could manage, and I
never had the tools. It's the box that's important. Everything else is
gimcrackery meant to preserve the vitals." H is excitement collapsed into
gloom. "But he won't have time to revive all of us. Even he can't do much to
slow brain deterioration."
"Quiet!" Mocker rumbled.
Nepanthe whirled. "Don't you talk..." Her rebuke died. The Old Man wasn't his
target. He glared at the shades of the easterners. They had begun carping at
one another again.
Her gaze traveled on, to her corpse, and she became aware of its nudity.
"Cover me, please."
Varthlokkur, chuckling, said, "He can't hear you. Not that it would make any
difference." He indicated her ghost-being, and those of the others. Each was
mother-naked.
"But he looked at me. Or I could do it myself." She felt foolish, worrying
about modesty now.
"A guess, facing our way. He knows we're here, but not where we are. Nor can
you move material things. Best get used to being naked."
"Fitting," Mocker grumbled. "Shame of whore-wife made evident to all eyes."
"Be careful," Varthlokkur said angrily.
"Time," the Old Man interjected. "He's working too slow. He can't possibly
save us all." A touch of hysteric hope rode his voice as he added, "He'll get
me, though. He owes me. I saved his life once."
"Smug millenarian!" Mocker snapped. His situation had begun to disturb him at
last.
His testiness, further upset Nepanthe. "It's silly for us to fight now. So
stop."
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"Silence, shame of imbecilic believer in anythings!" His self-righteousness
was thick enough to cut.
Nepanthe's spirit, the fire her brothers had wanted quenched, flared. She
advanced on Mocker like a stalking medusa. He retreated, retreated till,
suddenly, he found himself cornered.
Forcing his attention, with a white-hot intensity, she told him everything
that had occurred during their separation. "Listen!" she snarled, whenever he
tried to interrupt, and, "Look at me!" when his gaze wandered. She finished
with, "And that's the absolute truth."
He remained dubious, but found himself inclined to withdraw judgment. "Time
will demonstrate verity of same. Or no." Then, startling her with a sudden
change of tack, "Is sorcerer truly father of self?"
"He seems convinced."
"Truth told, wife of self is with child? Child of self?"
"Yes. Your baby." She turned to watch the Star Rider, as much to mask her [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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